


Pity Party

by louis_lucid_dreams



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Psychological Torture, but no one actually uses drugs, drug mention, if you're looking for a story that's not super creepy don't read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6555622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louis_lucid_dreams/pseuds/louis_lucid_dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naughty Boy has powers that men could never dream of. Maybe even has the power to ruin Liam's life. After all, it doesn't take much to destroy a crybaby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pity Party

I think I’m going crazy.

Empty streets burn in the summer sun. All is silent. All is still.

Until slowly, it begins. At first, quiet. Then growing, louder and louder.

The screaming.

It rushes in with the wind; a howl of unimaginable despair.

And on it goes, and on, and on.

 

PITY PARTY

A story

....

Liam Payne was a normal lad. Normal brown hair and eyes. Normal clothes, average build. 

He just happened to live an extraordinary life.

....

Shahid Khan was extraordinary in every way possible. Glittering dark eyes and a seductive stage name. Everybody loved Naughty Boy.

But they never bothered to wonder why.

....

Ten.

Liam Payne was running late. “Late, late, late,” he huffed under his breath, fighting his way through the hordes of London tourists. He didn’t look out of place; everyone seemed to be in a hurry. It was the lunch rush, business as usual.

But Liam was on a very special mission. 

One old man laughed to see him jogging down the sidewalk against the flow of the crowd. “Whoever she is, she’s a lucky girl, lad!” he called after him.

The lad smiled uncomfortably, nodding. His arms were laden with bouquets of flowers.

“Not a girl,” he muttered to himself, once he was sure he was out of earshot. “Late, late, la—ARGGH!” He had tripped somehow, and stupid, stupidly, had fallen to the ground, and his new shirt was ripped, and roses were spilling everywhere, being crushed mercilessly by the endless pairs of feet passing by, and oh god oh god he was going to be so late, this whole thing was such a bloody disaster—

“Oi oiiiii!” A familiar voice cried above him. “Fancy seeing you here, Payno!”

Liam quickly wiped away the tears that had begun rolling down his cheeks and grabbed the hand the newcomer had extended to help him up. “Thanks, Louis,” he mumbled, avoiding his friend’s eyes. He was embarrassed to have the older lad find him in such a state. 

Especially when Louis looked so put together today; he was wearing stylish brand-new white Adidas trainers, black skinny jeans, a dark blue jumper, and those ridiculous Aviator sunglasses (it was likely that he had on some light eye makeup as well, but Liam couldn’t be sure when he had the glasses on). Several shopping bags swung from his arms, and he held a Starbucks latte loosely in one hand.

But Louis had ignored Liam’s staring and was rambling on. “’Thanks, Louis’? That’s all I get? I just saved you, Payno, a guy oughta be more grateful than that!” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “Anyway, what’s all this about?” He gestured to the flowers Liam was now desperately trying to save from the ground, though most of them had already been smashed. 

“Erm—” Liam replied distractedly, crying out in pain and disgust when a man deliberately stepped on his hand as he tried to grab one. “Ouch! Ow. Er—nothing, just... Nothing.” He straightened up, giving Louis a look of anguish. His next words came out in a rush. “I was supposed to be with Zayn an hour ago, Louis! But the bus was late, and I’d forgotten some—something, so I picked up these at that flower shop on the corner, and then I missed the next bus, so I had to walk, run, and I’d already ruined everything by then, already late, so I tried to go faster, but I t—tr—tripped!” There was no use in trying to stem the flow of tears running down his face now. Liam wiped his nose messily on his shirt sleeve.

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Whoa,” he said. “Sorry, that su—” His mobile was ringing. “Oh, I’m sorry, love, I’ve got to take this. Good luck with your date, though!”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Liam’s last hope disappeared into the crowd.

....

Silk shirt. Suit jacket. Brown eyes, no eye shadow. You don’t need makeup when you’re beautiful.

When the air crackles around you.

When your song blasts over the speakers, bodies swaying to the beat.

When a simple joke can make him laugh, so delightfully...

Smile. You’ve earned it.

....

Lately, Zayn felt as though his head was in the clouds.

Things really couldn’t be better.

His album had reached number one—he did it! And Liam—gorgeous, kind, lovely Liam—had been there to congratulate him. 

There was possibly no better experience than watching Niall and Louis jumping around crazily to TiO while he and Liam snuggled on the couch during the after party.

And tonight, they were going on a date. A special surprise to make up for the disaster that afternoon (Zayn had waited alone for over an hour before Liam had called to tell him the bus had been late). 

He couldn’t wait.

He laid out his outfit on the bed: skinny jeans, floral T-shirt, and the leather jacket Liam liked to see him in.

Zayn smiled.

Life is good, on top of the world.

 

....

They look to you with admiration. Heads turning, conversations quieting, everybody stares.

But there is only one, one who catches your eye.

A young man, breathtakingly beautiful.

Wondering, for a moment—is he like you?

But no, no, he’s just like the rest.

And yet, somehow, different.

Once you are gone, to most it is as though you were never there.

But you make sure he remembers.

Remembers.

Remembers.

....

Nine.

There were stars in Zayn’s eyes that night.

“No way,” he’d said at the start of the evening, grinning hugely when Liam announced what the surprise was. “Never in a million years.”

“Oh, you can’t back out now,” Liam had answered cheekily. “I’ve already booked the tickets!”

“Fabulous. Fabulous. Just splendid.”

They were riding the Eye.

“Incredible,” Zayn whispered now, clutching tightly to Liam’s hand as they rose higher, higher, London spreading magnificently below them. The queues hadn’t been too long. The evening air sang of spring. Everything was perfect.

Zayn caught Liam’s eyes just then, with his own huge ones, and the flecks of green and gold in them sparkled like gems in the lights from the city.

“I love you,” he said. “Tonight has been incredible.” You could tell he meant it.

“I love you too,” Liam replied, beaming. His cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much.

“This idea was insane, by the way. If we go much higher I might faint.”

“I’ll catch you.”

“You’d better.”

....

A cup of tea as rain patters outside the window.

A tattered old blanket.

A book, science fiction.

Soft golden light from the lamp on the side table.

A friend comes to visit, but your mind is not on just a friend.

No. It is occupied by a lover.

A romancer.

A chest softly rises and falls with each breath.

A friend leaves.

Sleep arrives.

And with sleep, so you arrive too.

....

Eight.

Not much to do on a rainy day.

Liam sat slumped on his couch, defeated. The third rerun episode of Duck Dynasty in a row began playing on the television.

“Ughhh,” he whined, turning it off. Rain pounded on the roof overhead. Watson lay on a rug by the back door, chewing on a bone.

Nothing. To. Do.

Zayn was busy with the album. Louis was busy being a dad. Niall, no doubt, was off golfing somewhere, and Harry seemed to have temporarily dropped off the face of the earth.

Stupid hiatus, Liam thought, as he slowly stood up from the couch and began to wander from room to room. Stupid break.

It had been like this nearly all of April. Everyone busy except for Liam. Zayn staying out late performing, his days taken up by lengthy management meetings.

“Ughhh,” Liam moaned again, picking up a deck of cards he’d left lying around.

Anything to stop the boredom. Anything.

Four games of solitaire later, nothing had changed.

“Stupid bloody break,” Liam muttered, checking his watch. Half of five. Zayn might be on his way home by then.

Alright. He’d call him.

Make the time go by.

....

He saw him again. The man. Quite a good-looking man, if he was honest. Nice face.

Always showing up where Zayn happened to be.

Always had time for a chat.

Once, outside of the recording studio. Twice inside the grocery store. 

And now, while Zayn was buying a pack of cigarettes at a little run-down gas station on his way home from (yet another) meeting with management, there the man was, pulling up to one of the gas tanks. 

He was driving a red convertible, windows down. Not bad.

“Alright?” Zayn nodded to him, taking his change from the awed cashier of the Texaco’s convenience store. They probably didn’t get to see many celebrities.

“Hello!” the man grinned, getting out of his car.

His smile... It was gorgeous. Lit up his whole face.

“Yeah, hey,” Zayn mumbled, cheeks burning. He quickly turned away. Why are you blushing?! he screamed at himself, biting his lip. What is wrong with you!?

You’d think he’d never seen a man before in his life! And what about Liam!? He shouldn’t be blushing!

“Sorry—what?” Zayn asked suddenly, realizing too late that the man had spoken again. Whatever he’d said had been drowned out by the roar of the rush-hour traffic.

“I said, nice weather today!” the man repeated, still smiling pleasantly. “First rain we’ve had in weeks!”

Zayn smirked at the joke in spite of himself; it had been drizzling nonstop for the past two weeks, at least. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Glad the drought’s over.”

The man laughed then, filling Zayn with an unexpected warm feeling. I made him laugh, he thought stupidly.

“Well, see you later, then,” the man said, putting the gas hose back in its place. “Nice talking.”

“Yeah,” Zayn replied, a bit disappointed that their conversation had been so short. What if they never met again?

He was struck with sudden inspiration. “Hey—sorry, but I don’t think I ever caught your name?” He stood there in the rain, feeling like a fool.

The man looked at him for a long moment. “Shahid,” he said finally, his mouth twitching as though he were trying to suppress a smile. “And yours?”

“Oh. Zayn.” He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. Shahid. Shahid. 

But he didn’t know why. Why did he feel this way, when he had Liam? Just how selfish was he?

“See you, Zayn.” Shahid climbed into his car. “Nice talking.”

As the man shut the door and drove away, Zayn thought he caught the first few notes of Golden coming out of the car’s speakers.

He stood there, bewildered, until his phone rang.

It was Liam.

....

Big brown eyes looking up at you.

You’ve got him now. He’s hooked.

Once they ask for a name, it’s all over.

It’s a bit sad, sometimes, really. How hard they fall.

Explode against the ground when it’s over.

But of course, he doesn’t have to worry about that.

No. He’s the one.

He’s the one.

You’re the one, Shahid. That’s what they all say.

But Zayn is the one.

He is the one.

....

The rest of April passed in a dreary haze. Get up. Do nothing. Go to bed. Repeat.

Liam couldn’t help feeling a bit like sulking. 

Anything wrong, love?” Zayn asked one damp evening, as the two of them played Scrabble on Zayn’s living room rug. 

“No, ‘course not!” Liam replied, smiling tremendously. And nothing was wrong, when Zayn was there.

It was the solitude that got to him.

The same routine, over and over. Day in. Day out. Could he go to Zayn’s shows? He asked Simon, but the answer was no. Couldn’t have the fans thinking anything was really going on between them.

It didn’t matter that Zayn was under a different contract.

That the band was on break.

That they both had “girlfriends” anyway, so all the press would say was that they were still friends.

Nope. No going to Zayn’s shows.

Could he visit Louis in LA, finally meet Freddie? (Did Freddie even exist?) But Louis uncomfortably changed the subject every time he brought it up.

“Honey?” Zayn whispered, startling Liam out of his internal rant. “Are you still playing?”

“Wha—? Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry,” Liam said feverishly, scrambling to see what words he could make. X, X, X. The only pieces he had left were Xs. “Hey, what is this!?” he cried, laughing. “What have you done, you little cheater?!”

“I win!” Zayn squeaked, dodging out of the way as Liam threw an X at him. “You can’t deny, Malik’s got style!”

“Noooooo,” Liam despaired, falling to the ground. “I’ve been beaten!”

“YES!” Zayn yelled, jumping into the air. “Crime DOES pay!”

They laughed until they were breathless.

....

Seven.

A May breeze wafted through the air, the sky miraculously clear of clouds. Laughter and talk joined the birds as background noise. 

Liam and Zayn chose their seats on the restaurant’s patio.

“Good morning,” their waitress smiled agreeably. “My name is Emily; I’ll be your server for today. Do you know what you’d like to drink?”

“Erm,” Liam said immediately, interrupting Zayn’s answer. He shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry. Could I have... a Diet Coke, please?”

“Certainly,” Emily smiled. “And you, sir?” She turned to Zayn.

“I’d like a strawberry lemonade, thanks.” 

“Great. Is that everything for now?”

“Yup!” Liam said happily. His spirits seemed to have risen with the temperature this past week; the soulless feeling of April long behind him.

“Okay, then, I’ll be back soon with your drinks.” The waitress disappeared back inside.

Liam and Zayn smiled at each other lazily across the table. This was going to be a great day.

....

You have been watching.

The boy. The lover. Making him laugh. Making him blush.

When it should be you.

You.

This cannot go on.

It has been going on long enough.

Far too long.

Today, the boy with the short brown hair will laugh, will sing, will hold hands with the one you love.

Tomorrow, he will be nothing.

....

It made quite a spectacular sight, Zayn’s chicken tenders, flying high into the air before crashing back to earth. Landing squarely in a puddle next to the table.

“Oh—my—I’m sorry—sorry sorry sorry, I’ll—I’ll buy you some more!” Liam yelled hysterically, falling off his seat in his attempts to rescue a few stray chips from the soggy mess.

“Ummm.” Zayn laughed nervously, glancing around. Everyone was staring at them. “No, that’s—that’s okay, love, I’ll... Do you need a hand?”

“No! No, I’m quite alkay, okay, thanks, I’ll just get up now!” But he sat up too quickly and banged his head against the edge of the table. “Owwwww! Ouch, ow, that—god, owwww!” The pain was too much; despite his best efforts, Liam began to cry.

“Honey, are you okay?!” Zayn asked, clearly alarmed. He rushed to his friend’s side. “How hard did you—?”

“I’m f-f-fine!” Liam choked out through his tears. His head throbbed. “Just let me get—oh, no!” 

In some horrifying twist of fate, he had managed to knock Zayn’s feet out from under him while he tried to stand up. Now they were both in the puddle.

“LIAM, FOR GOD’S SAKE!” Zayn cried, exasperated. He had been wearing his favorite pair of trousers. Now they were soaked.

“Ugggghh,” Liam moaned, clutching at his head. “Sorry...”

“It’s—okay,” Zayn said through clenched teeth. “Let’s just get you up, now.”

“Need any help?” their waitress appeared, a bit too late. The family at the table next door was laughing uproariously.

“Yes!” Liam said, stumbling upright. “A new order of chicken and chips, please—!”

“Honey,” Zayn interrupted, slowly standing up. “Could we actually... Can we please just go home? My mobile, wallet, all my stuff, erm... It was in my pockets, so. I think my phone’s broken. Can we just...? Yeah.”

“Oh,” Liam said, eyes wide. “Oh, I... sorry. Never mind,” he said to the waitress.

“That’ll be fifteen pounds for the drinks and the first round of meals, then, please,” she replied grumpily.

After Liam handed over the money, he and Zayn made their way to the parking lot together. Customers stared curiously at their soaked clothes the whole way out.

“Sorry,” Liam said when they got to the car, avoiding Zayn’s eyes.

“That’s okay,” Zayn said, equally uncomfortable. “Er—shall we?” He opened the door for Liam to get in the passenger seat.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

All the way home, there was a strange silence between them.

....

Clumsy, clumsy. An arm thrown out, misplaced in his excitement.

A leg kicked in his attempts to get up.

Confusion, tears, pale cheeks turning a ruddy red.

Clumsiness is not attractive.

Not desirable.

It is tolerated. Patiently, perhaps, at first.

But patience quickly runs out.

Kind words turn cruel.

And clumsiness just doesn’t know how to stop being so clumsy.

....

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, Louis! He’s been acting weird for weeks!”

“Wait, wait, wait, start from the beginning again, please.” Louis sat in Zayn’s living room, sprawled on his expensive couch. He had been called to an “emergency talk” about an hour ago, and was drinking up every word with savage pleasure. “You say he threw your chicken fingers?”

“No! Well, not on purpose,” Zayn mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the carpet. “He was trying to hand them to me and, like. You know how excited he gets. He was talking and moving at the same time, and he kind of, like, flung his arm up into the air—” he demonstrated the bizarre maneuver,  
“—and they, just. Fell out.”

Louis shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, poor Liam,” he despaired, “What will we do with that boy?”

“Yeah, well, it was fine until he tripped me!” Zayn replied, annoyed. “Now my best pair of jeans is ruined! Not to mention my phone and all the stuff in my wallet!”

“Sorry, mate. It’s a cruel world out there.” Louis began inspecting the couch cushions.

“Oh, shut up. It’s just... I’m serious, Louis! I don’t know what’s up with him. Every day he keeps acting weirder and weirder—d’you know he called me last month to talk about Duck Dynasty? Like, what even?! He knows I don’t watch that show!”

Louis shrugged sassily in response. Unfortunately for Zayn, he seemed to be in one of his evil moods, and hadn’t been giving out the best of advice. “Payno always was a bit crazy, Zayn. Maybe he’s just finally gone off the deep end.”

Zayn sighed. “I dunno. And he keeps forgetting to show up for dates and stuff. Like that one time back in March, he just completely stood me up. I guess I should talk to him. Maybe there really is something wrong.”

Louis smiled. “Well, regardless of what happens, at least it was exciting while it lasted, wasn’t it?” 

Zayn glared at him.

“Sorry, sorry, just trying to lighten the mood...” He rolled his eyes  
.  
“Whatever,” Zayn said.

The two talked late into the afternoon.

....

Liam had buried his face in his hands as soon as he’d gotten to Harry’s house over an hour ago. And he hadn’t looked up since.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said for the millionth time, voice muffled. “I don’t even know, Harry. I messed up.”

Harry grimaced and secretly agreed, but he didn’t want to hurt Liam’s feelings. “I mean... I’m sure he’ll forgive you, Liam. Just give him some space?”

“Space!? Harry! I literally ruined his meal, tripped him, and made a fool out of us both! I made him fall into a puddle! His phone’s broken! And everyone was laughing at us, too! All because of me. Oh, god.” He moaned pathetically. “It was supposed to be a make-up date, you know, because we didn’t see much of each other in April. But now it’s turned into this mess.”

Harry stared at the floor, not knowing what to say. A clock on the wall loudly ticked away the seconds.

“Well,” Liam said, after several agonizing minutes of this, “Guess I’ll be going. Sorry for barging in on you like this, Harry. Thanks for listening. Er—see you later.” He stood up to leave.

Harry didn’t stop him.

....

“He what!?” 

“I know, Niall, I didn’t believe it either at first! But he came over this afternoon and told me it all himself!”

“But... You just don’t do that, man! That’s not cool!”

“I know... He was really upset, though. I didn’t want to make it worse by—”

“Well he should be upset! Jeez! I always knew he was, well... But I dunno. Maybe you didn’t get the full story—Liam’s usually pretty hard on himself. He could’ve been exaggerating.”

“Nope. Lou called me a few minutes ago; he’d just talked with Zayn. Same story.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Jeez, that sucks, man. I kind of expected more from him.”

“Well, wouldn’t we all like to?”

“Good point. Hey—can I call you back? I’m out with some friends right now, sorry—”

“Sure, sure. Talk to you later, Niall. Love you.”

“Love you too, Harry! ‘Bye.”

....

Six.

The air was stifling. Sticky, hot, humid. Liam tugged at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably. A ceiling fan whirred overhead, slicing through the air efficiently. The artificial breeze ruffled his hair.

“We need to talk,” Zayn said gruffly. He leaned forward in his seat across from Liam, couch springs creaking. Cleared his throat. “Erm. About the other day.”

It was too hot. Too hot for May.

Liam wiped his forehead with a shaky hand.

“Honey!” Zayn said, looking disturbed. “It’s not—it’s not bad! We just need to talk!”

“Oh,” Liam said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Sure, I knew that. Thanks. Just... Well, what about?”

Zayn stared at him for a second. “About... the other day?”

“Oh! Right, sorry, you already said that, sorry! Hahaha.” Liam tapped his foot anxiously. “About... that date, you mean? Where we, er... fell down?” He really did not want to be having this conversation. At all.

“Yeah. About that. Are you... okay right now, love? Do you... need a break?” Zayn glanced longingly at the front door. It seemed that he didn’t want to be having this conversation, either.

“No! I don’t need a break! I’m fine! Carry on, carry on.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Alright, honey. Spit it out. What’s been going on with you lately? Why do you always say you’re fine when you’re obviously not?!”

“Wha—? That’s not fair! I’m perfectly fine, it’s just a—a hot day!” He began jiggling his leg.

“Liam! For goodness’ sake, love, tell me what’s going on with you! I just want to help.” 

“Nothing’s going on, Zayn! It’s just—I’m just—ugh, why do you have to be so pushy all the time!?”

There was a nasty silence while the two stared at each other. Zayn arched an eyebrow delicately. “...Pushy? Well excuse me, Liam, I was just trying to find out what was going on with you. Considering the fact that you keep showing up late for things. And that you were acting crazy out in public the other day. Sorry.”

Liam spluttered in outrage, jumping up from his chair; it fell to the floor with a crash. “Crazy!? I wasn’t acting crazy! I tripped! Listen, I’m sorry I dropped your stupid chicken tenders—”

“NO! No, stop right there, Liam!” Zayn was on his feet now as well, hands balled into fists. “You didn’t just drop my chicken tenders, alright!? You also ruined my phone, my ID, all the stuff I had in my wallet—”

“Not on purpose! I’m so sorry I happened to trip while I was trying to pick up your meal—!”

“Yeah! ‘Cause you knocked it over.” Zayn paused, breathing heavily. Rubbed at his temple. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe we’re arguing over chicken fingers. Look—” he reached out and grabbed Liam’s hand in his own. “—I’m sorry. Okay? Really. I am.”

Liam pulled away. “Whatever,” he said sulkily. He hadn’t really been listening; that stupid ceiling fan wouldn’t stop buzzing in his ears. 

What a day.

“Oh.” Zayn was saying. He took a step back. “You don’t... You’re not sorry too?”

“What?” Liam yelped, horrified he had missed something so important. “No—sorry—I am, really—!”

“You know what, Liam? Forget it.” Zayn did not sound hurt anymore. His voice was cold as ice. “If you’re going to keep turning up late for things, or not showing up at all... Just. Forget it, okay? I don’t know why you’ve been such a mess lately, seeing as you haven’t told me, but you know what? I really don’t have time for this. I really don’t.”

“What... What are you saying?” Liam asked breathlessly, eyes filled with tears.

Zayn looked down at the floor. “I think... Maybe... We need to take a break.” Silence. A tear trickled pitifully down Liam’s cheek. “You know. With us. This—you know. I’ve been... I’ve just been really busy with my album lately, and... I think we need to take a break.” 

“...I—I understand,” Liam whispered. But he didn’t. He didn’t understand at all. How could this be happening? Was it some Hellish nightmare? Had they both gone crazy?

“I’ll, er—see you later, Liam,” Zayn said. He wouldn’t look him in the eye. Wouldn’t look in his direction at all.

“Yeah,” Liam squeaked.

Zayn’s footsteps echoed as he walked to the door.

Liam somehow managed to keep it together until he heard it click softly behind him. Then he lost it completely. 

Tears streaming down his face, he flung himself facedown on the couch, beating at the pillows with his fists. “Nooo,” he groaned. “Oh, god. Zaaaaayn!”

The worst scenario. He’d literally had nightmares about this happening.

They’d come true.

Liam cried and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.

....

And so, it’s done.

The boy’s out of the way.

Any lingering affection can be taken care of easily.

So easy. Too easy, really.

Maybe not even fair.

But now, the path ahead is clear.

And soon he’ll be yours.

Oh, so soon...

I’m coming, my angel.

....

Numb. That’s how Zayn felt.

“You are so... You are an idiot, Zayn.” He said it out loud, walking blindly down the sidewalk towards the bus station. “You’re a stupid—stupid—bloody effing idiot!” He was crying now, tears running down his face in an unsightly manner, but he couldn’t help himself. For once, Zayn didn’t care what other people thought of him.

He only cared about Liam.

Liam.

Liam, who he had just broken up with.

Liam, who would probably never forgive him.

And why had he even done it? Over CHICKEN TENDERS?!

Well, no. He knew that wasn’t true. Liam hadn’t been acting like himself for months, and refused to give an explanation.

He could even be mixed up with drugs!

Like you haven’t done drugs before, Zayn thought dully. No, really. There had been no reason—no reason—to do what he’d done.

And he was just turning around to go back, talk to Liam again, try and fix this mess, when he saw him. Leaning against a telephone pole and smoking a cigarette. 

The man. 

Shahid.

And a strange sense of relief coursed through him. Shahid. He would help him! He would know what to do!

“Oh, hullo, Zayn,” the man grinned, cigarette smoke billowing into the humid air. “How are you today?”

“Fine,” Zayn replied, barely audibly. He was not fine. Not at all.

“You in a hurry?”

“I mean... I guess not.” Zayn’s shoulders slumped. It was probably no use, anyway. He’d insulted Liam’s pride; he’d never forgive him. What was the point in marching straight back? What had he been planning to say, anyway? “So, Liam, I gave it some thought and kind of realized you’ve actually done nothing wrong and you deserve way better than me—so can we please get back together?” didn’t sound so good.

“Hey, what’s up?” Shahid was peering at Zayn through the smoke, looking concerned. “Something bothering you?”

“Oh, noth—well, yeah. It’s nothing, though, just—just—” And Zayn was an idiot.

He was sobbing in front of Shahid!

“Whoa, whoa. Take it easy, love. Are you okay?” The man had rushed to Zayn’s side, tentatively patting his shoulder. “D’you... Are you okay?”

“Sorry, sorry, just—we just—I just—” he felt hysterical, dizzy. The full realization of what he’d done was beginning to hit him. Liam, gone. 

It was all his fault. 

“I just—broke up—with my—my—”

“Oh, no! There, there, love.” The man thumped him on the back. “I’m sorry. They’re never fun, are they, break-ups? No, no. Messy business. Always a bit of heart break. But, hey,” he gestured grandly to the foggy London sky, “There’s a whole world out there waiting for you.”

Zayn sniffled himself into silence. “Sorry,” he breathed, beyond embarrassed. He’d never lost control in public like that before. Sobbing on the street! People were probably staring.

“Oh, it’s nothing, love. People cry. I cried when my old dog died, didn’t I, and she was fifteen years old! Cute little thing, though. Got her at the RSPCA, back in 2000. Those big brown eyes looking up at me... I was a goner, alright. Fell in love on the spot!” Shahid chuckled. Put out his cigarette. He looked Zayn in the eye. “You ever need to talk.” He nodded. Turned. Walked away.

Just like that, the man was gone.

“Thanks,” Zayn breathed, staring after him.

....

Five.

He saw him again. The man. The stranger. Talking with Zayn. Making him laugh. They’d been talking a lot, lately. Zayn and the man. All month long, actually. And not just when they bumped into each other, not by chance. No. They sought out each other’s company.

Once, they had coffee together.

A few times now, they’d met up after Zayn’s work. Zayn climbing into that ridiculous red convertible. The two of them driving off.

Liam wasn’t stalking them, of course. The two just always seemed to turn up where he happened to be. Flaunting their happiness.

Zayn and the man. The strange man.

Liam bit back tears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

....

Long conversations on a warm summer evening.

Numbers exchanged, friends made.

A joke, a laugh, a look that lasts just a bit too long...

His skin glows in the moonlight.

His smile shines like sunlight.

Fingers entwined, his thumb stroking yours, but no one mentions it.

Softly, softly.

Some things are just meant to be.

....

It was good to feel loved again. Truly loved, by someone who was always present in the moment, always there if he needed to talk. 

Sometimes Zayn felt terribly guilty, for moving on so quickly. Like he was betraying Liam somehow, betraying the memory of their relationship. They’d only broken up last month, after all.

But it was good. To be loved. To be held, safe in Shahid’s arms.

He’d introduced Shahid to the lads the other day, and they’d all gotten on beautifully.

“Hey, haven’t I seen you before?” Niall had asked, looking puzzled. “Are you... Aren’t you that producer? Naughty Boy?”

“Yes!” Shahid had smiled that gorgeous smile. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of me, love. But, yeah. Naughty Boy, that’s me.”

Harry had smirked. “I suppose you two have been working on music together, then,” he said mildly.

“Oh, yes, a few songs. We’ll see where they lead to, right, Zayn?” And then that smile had been turned on Zayn, and he was blinded, he didn’t know what to say in the face of such beauty.

So he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Yes.”

....

One day blends into the next, the weeks ahead stretching out luxuriously before you.

Secrets, whispered late at night, a pair of lips close to an ear, shadows creeping across the ceiling.

Secrets whispered by the unsuspecting. The innocent.

Secrets turn into rumors, and rumors build, growing more outrageous with every retelling.

Secrets can plant seeds of distrust among the strongest friendships.

Closer, closer. They all trust you, now.

Drunk on secrets, intoxicated, they flock to you.

Oh, the strange, simple way of human nature.

....

“Hey, Niall. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey. Nothing, really. Just heard something from Shahid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Okay, um. Not sure if you’ve already heard about this. It’s kinda bad.”

“What is it!?”

“Okay. So you know how Liam’s been acting kind of weird the past few months?”

“Yeah...?”

“Well, Shahid told me that Zayn told him that Liam’s doing drugs. You know. Hard drugs.”

“What?! Liam, on drugs!?”

“Yeah, apparently. It really kind of sucks. I guess it makes sense that Zayn broke up with him.”

“Well, no kidding. But how—how long has he been doing this? God, I feel terrible. I haven’t checked up on him in days!”

“At least since March, according to Zayn. I dunno. I guess we should’ve seen this coming.”

“Why? How could we have seen this coming, Niall?!”

“I dunno. He’s just... Always been a little unstable.”

....

Four.

The door to Liam’s house creaked ominously as Niall pushed it open. “Hello?” he called, stepping into the hall. Closed the door behind him. “Liam? Why is your door unlocked? Liam? I came to see you!” He shifted nervously from foot to foot. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea at all.

“What?” Liam said in a scratchy voice, slouching into the hallway. Niall cringed inwardly. He really didn’t look too good; unshaven, dark bags under his eyes, clothes wrinkled.

Niall had to wonder if he was high.

“Hey, Niall,” Liam mumbled, peering past his friend’s head as though expecting to see someone else. “Is Zayn here?” he asked hopefully.

“Uh... Nope. Just me.” Niall forced a smile. “How are you... How are you doing? I came to talk to you.”

A tear leaked out of Liam’s bloodshot eye. Bloodshot from what? Smoking? Crying? “Well, er... Come on in, then.” He stepped back to let Niall further into the house.

They made their way to the living room in silence, Liam staring down at the floor in front of him. Layers of dust coated every surface in the house.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. You been busy?” Niall tried once they were seated on the couch. 

Liam shook his head feebly in response.

“You, uh... You okay, man?” 

“No.”

“You wanna talk?”

“No.”

“Um... okay. You wanna just sit here?”

“No.”

“Uh.”

The two sat quietly for a moment, the only sound the whirring of the ceiling fan.

Finally Niall couldn’t take it anymore. “It’s dark in here. Do you keep the curtains closed all the time?” He squirmed.

“Yes.”

“Er. Great.”

“Sorry.”

They lapsed into silence again.

“Okay, man,” Niall said a while later, “What’s been going on with you? Come on. You can talk to me! Everyone’s worried.”

Liam looked at him fully for the first time. “Really? Everyone?”

His voice was flat. Strange.

Niall’s cheeks burned. “Well... Yeah. I mean, yeah. Everyone’s pretty worried.”

“Pretty worried. Is that why no one’s even called?” His eyes were desperate, searching Niall’s, daring him to lie. “You sure took your time coming to check on me. How long has it been? A couple of weeks? But I suppose you’ve all been too busy hanging around Zayn and that new bloke, what’s-his-name. Shahid.” He looked back down at the floor. “They’re probably wondering where you are, Niall. Better hurry back.” He sounded so angry.

Niall’s hands had balled into fists. “You know what, Liam,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm, “I have been spending a lot of time with Zayn. He wasn’t doing too good right after you two broke up. I guess it would be hard for him. Keeping all those secrets.”

“Secrets?” Liam’s head snapped up. “What d’you mean?”

“Oh, I dunno. Your drug habit. The way you used to yell at him, or act like he wasn’t there. Sit there and stare.” Niall’s eyes narrowed. “Just when exactly did you decide you could treat him that way, Liam? Did you really think we couldn’t see something was going on?”

Liam gaped at him, speechless. But Niall was on a roll.

“It’s funny, you know, because you’re the one who used to complain all the time, sayin’ Zayn was too busy, you had nothing to do, whatever. When all along he was taking time out of his schedule to be with you, going out of his way to try and keep you happy, and you just—”

“No—no—I—” Liam ran his hands through his hair, the curls sticking up wildly. 

“—you have the nerve to act like he’s wronged you somehow, and you sit here and sulk, and stink up the place with whatever you’re smoking, probably crying all night ‘cause you have to go to bed alone—”

“That’s not true!” Liam yelled, his voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word. They were both on their feet by now, glaring at each other, and Liam could tell this was getting ugly fast and he really didn’t want anything to happen—

“THEN WHY THE HELL DID HE TELL US, LIAM!?” Niall looked mean. Like he had never really liked him. Like it had all been pretend. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that he was lying?! We’ve all seen how you get when you’re angry! And look at you now! You’re a mess! You have been for months!” He looked Liam up and down, mouth twisting in disgust. “I can’t believe this. I expected more from you.” 

He stalked towards the front door without another word.

“Wait—!” Liam cried, too late. It slammed behind Niall, rattling the furniture in the hall. 

“Wait....” Liam whispered, tearing up.

He was such a crybaby.

....

No hand to hold in the night. No lips to kiss goodbye in the morning. Nobody to embrace. To laugh with. Talk with. Cry with.

Fight with.

No words spoken, glances exchanged.

Liam’s life was nothing more than a list of the things he’d lost.

It’s a funny thing, solitude. A funny feeling.

Somewhere far away, outside, beyond the confines of this stuffy house, there was a world out there, with a blazing summer sun, and green grass, and laughter, and birds singing in the trees.

But inside all the curtains were closed; a dim red light prevailed throughout the rooms. And there was no grass. No sky. No trees.

Friends. No friends.

Liam wandered through the rooms; it was all he ever did anymore. He hadn’t been out in over a week.

Not that anyone had noticed. Or cared.

He counted the usual landmarks as he passed by them. It had become a game for him. A way to pass the time.

There, by the couch, where Niall had yelled at him.

There, the beanbag chairs where he and Louis used to sit playing the Xbox for hours at a time.

There, the front door. Zayn had closed it so carefully on his way out, while Niall had slammed it as hard as he could. Neither had given it a backwards glance.

Liam quickly moved on.

Harry had helped arrange the living room furniture, sometime last fall, laughing when Liam accidently knocked over a lamp.

I’ve always been an idiot, Liam thought, fighting back tears. Stupid, stupid Liam.

He began to cry in earnest.

Because—surely they should have forgiven him by now, his best friends for life?

He had forgiven all of them, for not answering his calls.

He was pretty sure Niall had even blocked his number.

But he was forgiven!

And Zayn—Zayn was especially forgiven, even though he’d started dating someone else almost immediately after they broke up.

That was okay. Even if the person was extremely creepy.

Liam wasn’t much to get over, anyway.

An idiot with no friends.

He sank down into a chair, head in his hands. There was no point, was there. No point at all.

But then, he remembered, a glimmer of hope—Andy!

Andy had no reason to hate him! They’d been friends for years!

He nearly dropped the phone in his excitement to call him.

Right at the top of his Contacts list.

He pressed talk.

And waited.

And waited.

“The number you have dialed, no longer exists.” A robotic voice came through the speakers. Not Andy’s. Followed by a long, shrill dial tone that seemed to last forever.

Then, silence.

Liam hung up the phone.

His cheeks were soaked with tears.

....

Three.

There was something wrong with him. The man. Liam had come to this conclusion the other day at the dinner table, his forkful of pasta hanging suspended in the air. There was something that just... Something wasn’t right.

Like the way he moved. And how he stared at Zayn so intensely, right into his eyes. All the boys followed Shahid around like a bunch of puppies, soaking in his every word, relaxing at his touch, basking in his smiles.

Oh, yes. Liam had been thinking. 

There was something very wrong with that man.

But what was it? Was he a hypnotist? A magician? He couldn’t be sure without a second opinion.

But of course, there was no one to talk to.

And so, Liam kept thinking to himself. Thinking, thinking, thinking.

He thought, There is something wrong with that man.

....

“Do you believe in magic?” Shahid asked one night, as the stars shined overhead. He and Zayn were lying side by side on the hill outside of Zayn’s house, listening to the racket of the July cicadas. Holding hands. 

It was lovely.

“This is magic,” Zayn sighed, snuggling closer into Shahid’s side. 

Shahid laughed lightly, squeezing Zayn’s hand. “Isn’t it.” He turned to face him. Caught his gaze. “But you know what I mean. Real magic. Like in fairy tales.”

“’Real magic’?” Zayn smirked, raising his eyebrows. “My, my. I didn’t know what I was getting into with you, did I? Fairytales. My god.” He shook his head. “Nah, sorry, I can’t say that I do believe in fairy tales. Do you?”

“Maybe,” Shahid shrugged. “I just wondered. Would you believe in them, if someone gave you proof?”

“Well, if you give me proof, I think I’d believe just about anything.” Zayn was gazing up at the stars; they reflected beautifully in his enormous eyes.

“Well, then,” Shahid smiled. “Good to know.”

....

There was something wrong, something wrong. He couldn’t place it, but there was something off. Off. About that man.

....

Two. 

Ring, ring, ring, goes the phone. Liam called Zayn again and again.

But he never picked up.

Drip, drip, goes the faucet. Washing dishes after dinner.

He would sit for hours, staring into space, thinking.

Empty. This house was so huge.

Liam’s hands shook as he wiped away the tears on his face. Shaking, sobbing. No point. No point anymore.

Shaking hands clenched tight on his shirt sleeves, arms crossed, keeled over. Sobbing. Sobbing. It had been so long. So long since he’d seen another person, anyone, even Watson; he’d disappeared in the night a few days ago.

Liam thought he heard a whisper sometimes, or maybe it was in his own head. It floated in through the drafty windows, seeped up through the floorboards.

LIAAAAAAAAM........

Drip, drip. Tears on the red carpet. Ring, ring, ring. He threw the phone against the wall. 

LIAAAAAAAAAMMMM.........

Once, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Bit back a scream.

He looked like a madman.

Was he? Mad?

He didn’t know anymore.

LIAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM..........

Fridge, cabinets empty. No more dinner. No more. No more. He couldn’t take this anymore.

No sleep. No relief.

He stared at a chip in the paint on the wall, unblinking, unseeing, trying to stop. Stop. 

LIAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM...........

But Shahid’s voice gave him no relief.

....

You’re good for him. He’s been happier, friendlier.  
Everyone can see you bring out the best in each other.

Anyone could tell the difference between the sulky young man he used to be and the kind, caring person he is now.

Yes. But he doesn’t owe you anything more than what was already due.

And soon. The time is soon.

Together, forever.

I’ll love you forever.

The time is soon.

....

Zayn had begun to notice a change in himself, lately. He felt lighter, freer, than he ever had before. The birds chirping in the trees were music to his ears. The sun burning on his back didn’t bother him. It made him feel alive.

He knew he owed it all to Shahid. He had shown him so many things, taught him to better appreciate the world around him.

A strange thought occurred to him, but true. 

He knew he would go wherever Shahid wanted to take him.

....

“You been to see Liam in a while?”

“No... To be honest, I’m kind of scared to. You didn’t see the place, Harry. It’s a pig sty in there.”

“Well. Maybe we should... Give him some time?”

“Yeah. Um. What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried about him.”

“Even after everything he’s done?! Seriously, man, you’ve got some issues. He’s kind of a creep.”

“He’s still a member of the band, Niall! I still care about him!”

“I guess. Hey, listen, I gotta go, I’ll call you back, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Talk to you later.”

“Later.”

....

People. They never do learn

Frustration, lies, betrayal. So easily can friendships be torn apart.

Friends lost, forgotten. Brothers left to fend for themselves.

Lovers left to weep alone.

It’s always the same. Year after year.

Century after century.

Yes, there is something you know. 

The world may change around them.

But the people will never change.

....

One.

Liam Payne was alone.

No laughter echoed off the high ceiling.

No footsteps pounded the stairs.

No finger rang the bell.

All.

Alone.

The silence roared in his ears.

And it was unbearable.

A sob escaped him, the noise ringing through the house louder than a gunshot. He jumped, startled.

Hands clapped over ears, and rocking, rocking, back and forth, back and forth, and forth, and forth, and forth.

“Just me,” he whispered, the noise a bit more manageable now with hands over ears. And so quiet, quietly, he began to talk into the emptiness. “Just you, Liam. Me, you. Me and you. Twenty-two. Three.”

His eyes flickered up towards the calendar on the wall. August 29, 2016. Happy Birthday!!! was scrawled messily upon the paper, filling up the square.

He remembered the day he wrote that. The air outside brittle and sharp. The rush of excitement for the year ahead.

A new year.

An awful wailing began, began, and wouldn’t stop, and Liam pressed his hands harder, harder against his head, and screamed and screamed to stop the crying. Stop. Stop.

Never would Zayn kiss him again. Stop.

Never would Louis give him one of his soft, soft hugs, smooth tan arms tight around his waist. Stop.

Never would Niall give him a high-five, tell a joke to cheer him up, make him a cup of tea when he was tired. Stop.

Never again would Harry talk with him for hours at a time, trying to untangle the mess in his head, because, because, this mess was too much, much too big to ever clean up, stop stop stop stop.

But he couldn’t stop.

Because he remembered.

“I love you,” Zayn had said. Had said, although now it felt like it had happened a million years ago. Had said, as the stars shone in his eyes. Hand clasped in Liam’s. 

Leather jacket unzipped. Liam’s favorite jacket of Zayn’s. Fit just right around his shoulders.

Zayn had worn it to please him. He realized this now.

Wanted to look nice for him.

For him.

“I love you,” he’d whispered, a thousand times, cuddled on the couch with a cup of tea, seated at a restaurant on a cold winter night, after a show, in the car, circled in each other’s arms, caught in a summer shower, when the other boys weren’t looking, watching, prying, they kissed each other deliriously and said I love you, I love you, because they could.

They could.

He would not say that anymore.

Liam’s throat was raw, his eyes stung.

Back and forth, he rocked on the kitchen floor. Back, and forth. He did not want to remember.

Remember.

Remember.

Over time the shadows grew long. Darkness came, an old friend, settling over the house and slipping in through the cracks, a disguise, erasing the words on the calendar.

Happy Birthday!!!

And Liam Payne was alone.

....

Zero.

Zayn Malik disappeared from his home on the night of August 29th, 2016, never to be seen again.

The last person known to be with him was Shahid Khan, producer, when he came over to Zayn’s house for dinner.

They talked late into the night (though Zayn didn’t notice the time).

They talked and 

talked and

talked. 

Until he was very tired.

Tired....

Zayn’s eyes slipped shut. Only for a moment.

But one slip-up.

One.

Is enough.

The End


End file.
